Kreature's Gift
by Crimson Siyrean
Summary: After the events of DH, Harry has commissioned the portrait of one Severus Snape for Hogwarts, when it arrives, however, Harry finds himself having strange dreams that only lead him to one conclusion, Severus Snape is alive. Finished!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: i do not own Harry Potter

_A/N: this is my time writing for the HP fandom. i could never get my head around FF for open canon but now that it's closed, may the fics start rolling. i wrote this for the Snape after DH com over on LJ, but as i have an account here i thought it be best to share it with all of you too. it is complete but i didn't get to edit it satisfactorly over on LJ so i'm going to do that before i post it all. shouldn't take too long._

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**Kreature's Gift**

A cool wind swept over the streets outside number twelve Grimmauld Place. Fall leaves rustled and twisted by the feet of the three shivering teenagers standing on the front steps to the dismal building. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione knocked upon the plain wooden door for the third time, sharing knowing glances among one another.

Again no answer, though even from the outside the three could hear the sound of pounding footsteps somewhere just beyond. Ginny raised an eyebrow, Ron gave a shrug, and Hermione let out a loud sigh while withdrawing her wand from a pocket.

With a loud crashing noise, the door flew open as Hermione's spell met its mark, leaving a small spiral of smoke drifting from the lock.

Dust seemed to lie upon every surface of the darkened entranceway. The trio stood a moment, silently taking in the quiet of the room before them. Shadows lurked upon every wall and the faint scent of mildew lingered unpleasantly. Hesitantly, they stood as the pounding steps came crashing towards them.

"Kreature!" came a shout from the direction of the staircase. "I am going to kill you!" Then, with a pop and a series of stumbles from the shocked teenagers, a snout nosed, beady-eyed, house elf appeared at their feet. 

"Young master knows Kreature only lives to serve," he muttered to no one in particular. The house elf bowed toward all three lowly. "Kreature will serve by seeing to the door."

It was then a scruffy haired teenager rounded the corner scowling darkly. Ginny had to stifle a giggle before he halted at the sight of the door.

"Harry," Hermione called out, taken aback by his disheveled appearance.

"You all right?" asked Ron. Harry blinked a few times, seeming to take a few moments to take in the sight of his three friends and the house elf congregating in the stuffy front entrance, all looking from one to the other with confused expression of concern and amusement upon their faces.

"Oh, hi?" came his voice, suddenly realizing they were all waiting for him to say something.

"What's going on in here?" asked Hermione.

"We heard thumping," stated Ginny with a raised eyebrow.

Catching his breath, Harry fixed his face back into a fierce scowl. "You aren't going to believe what _that thing,_ has done."

"Harry," Hermione said with disapproval. "You shouldn't speak like that."

"What's the little creep done now?" asked Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione nudged him sharply.

"You aren't going to believe this," Harry breathed, looking around at all of them. "Remember how I had Snape's portrait commissioned for the school?" They all nodded. "Well, for some reason they saw fit to deliver it here."

If he was expecting a reaction, then he was unsuccessful for the group just looked at him, unperturbed.

"Oh, and you didn't want to face him yet, is that is?" ventured Hermione.

Ginny on the other hand was looking at the house elf quizzically. "What did Kreature do?" she asked, glance back at Harry.

It was as through a spark of sorts was lit behind the boy's eyes. His hands started to clench absently and his face seemed to darken a shade.

"He," Harry began, turning furiously and pointing to the elf. "That _thing,_ saw fit to put it up!"

The withheld breath all three were restraining, was released at once. They all looked nervously to one another, not sure how to proceed.

"Oh," began Hermione. Well that's…"

"In the master bedroom."

Several blinks and a few disgusted looks we had.

"Still it's…"

"Where I sleep," he continued on.

Ginny shuddered.

"With a permanent sticking charm," Harry finished with a note of defeat.

After a moment of silence a loud gulping noise could be heard and they all turned towards Ginny. "So he'll be watching when we…"

"Ginny!" gasped Ron in disgust.

Harry blushed and looked away. Ginny on the other hand, glared viciously at her brother. "I didn't mean that!"

"There are others bedrooms," added Hermione tentatively.

"So then he can hear us when--"

"Ginny!"

"When we're over," the girl spat. "Will you stop that!"

Ron scowled. "Well I just know what you're thinking."

"Only because it's what you'd think about in such a situation," Ginny growled. "You do realize there are such things as silencing charms, don't you?"

Harry inwardly groaned and Hermione suddenly seemed inexplicitly interested in patterns of dust upon the side table.

"I did not just hear that," muttered Ron, refusing to look at either his best friend or sister.

"Well Harry," came Hermione's soft voice after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "It's a simple matter of commissioning another portrait. Then he can just stay in the other frame."

"I realize that," Harry replied. "But you're forgetting that that process takes months, not to mention he'll still have access to the house…" The boy stilled as realization dawned on him. "Oh god, what if he can visit other pictures here too?"

Ron's gaped. "Shit, he can be spying on us right now…"

"I'm sure Professor Snape has better things to do than to listen in on our conversations," snapped Hermione

"Like what?" exasperated Ron. "The guy's dead, can't be too much to do, can there?"

"I am going to kill that house elf," groaned Harry.

Ginny walked over to Harry and gave him a little hug and peck on the cheek. "It'll be fine," she said soothingly. Ron coughed, to which Ginny shot back another glare. "You could always sell the house," she finished.

"A little dramatic don't you think?" replied Hermione.

"You deal with a dead Snape hanging around your bedroom then," Harry replied darkly.

"Look," said Hermione. "Harry, let's just go in there and get it over with. Maybe death's mellowed him out a bit… or not. Still what can he do? Come on."

Hermione took him by the arm and led him to the stairway. He followed reluctantly up the creaking steps with Ginny at his side and Ron following closely behind. Every step seemed to weigh heavier and heavier upon him, till he stopped still in his tracks at the end of the hall.

There they all stood, looking ominously at the door just a few paces away.

"Well?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," Harry hesitated. "Should I, should I knock first?"

They all stared at him, though it looked as though Hermione was doing her best to hide a few giggles.

"Knock?" asked Ginny, in an amused voice. "The guy's dead, does it really matter? Come on, and quit stalling, we need to get this over with."

Harry shook his head. "You don't understand, I thought I had more time… er… to prepare and stuff. You don't understand."

Hermione stepped forward with a breath. "He gave you his memories. That's a very personal thing. I'm sure it'll be awkward at first, but—"

The boy spun so fast it made her jump back. "But nothing! I was wrong. Don't you get that? I was wrong and now he's dead."

They all looked at him with quiet, pitying expression on their faces. "There was nothing you could have done Harry. You know that don't you?" whispered Hermione.

"Of course I do! What the hell was I supposed to do about a great, giant snake?" It seemed as though they all stepped back at once. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "Look you just don't understand. I thought, I thought I had more time… to… think of _something_… to say."

Ginny then pushed forward, looking as though she were about to give him another hug but then sidestepped by, bursting through the door.

"Ginny!" they cried, as she pranced through, holding her head high with a wry smile on her face.

"Professor? Processor Snape? Are you awake?" she called, spinning around the room in search for the portrait.

"Professor?" came Hermione's voice as she fallowed and stepped into the room.

Once they all had entered, Harry's eyes swept the walls quickly with his breath hitched in his throat. Then they stopped, resting upon a large, ornately framed portrait. And there in the center, stood the overshadowing form of Professor Severus Snape, former potions master, head of Slytherin house, and headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Professor?" Harry asked questioningly. His brow furled as he stepped closer to examine the portrait.

"Harry, that's not…" whispered Hermione, her eyes wide and watering.

There was a deathly silence through out the room. Ron and Ginny looked at each other, shrugging. Hermione had her hand over her mouth, shaking her head frantically. Harry on the other hand continued to stare at what could only be described as a simple, ordinary, Muggle painting.

This wasn't right, the boy thought to himself; there must have been some sort of mix up.

"Look, there's a letter," said Ron, handing over an enveloped addressed to a one Mr. Potter of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Huh?" Harry replied, suddenly snapping out of his racing thoughts. Deftly, he opened the paper. He read the contents allowed as he spoke: "Dear Mr. Potter, we at Predigest Portraits & co. regret to inform you that the process of canvas-to-life was unsuccessful in the case of your departed loved one. It is rare but not uncommon for an anomaly to occur, thus tampering with the precise magic and timing involved in this complex and advanced field of magic, resorting unfortunately in the creation of a useless Muggle painting. We have sent the picture over for your inspection so that you may see first hand the detail and art in which we are always pleased to provide. You may, of course, burn appropriately or dispose of as you see fit. We will, of course, be happy to re-commission our artists at no extra cost.

"Our patrons are our first and foremost concern, and we wish to make this time of loss an easy one for all loved ones concerned. Unfortunately, the complex and advanced art of framing is handled by a sister company Fastidious Frames & co. and will cost an extra twenty-two Galleons (payment instructions listed on the back)."

By the time he finished, Harry felt a distinct, sinking feeling fill his gut causing him to glance back at the ominous black figure, affixed permanently to the wall.

"What a load of bull!" cried Ron. His voice broke the silence like the breaking of glass and there was a collective release of breath from the group.

"Are you all right Harry?" Ginny whispered, coming to his side.

"Charging extra for a frame when it's them who screwed up," Ron went on. "And what does that mean, rare but not uncommon? Do they even know what they're talking about?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry breathed. "Its fine, whatever."

"Harry?" This time it was Hermione.

Harry felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, but this was what he wanted, wasn't it? He thought desperately, looking again to the letter and back to his friends surrounding him, all with mixed expressions on their face. "I said I'm fine. I guess I could just stick a sheet over it now, or something. It's not like he'd be real anyways. It's just a portrait."

"Harry…"

"No, I get it. He's dead," he snapped. "I just never thought that Snape, _dead_, in any situation, would make me feel this way." He shook his head and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Well if it's any conciliation," said Hermione, settling her self down beside him. "I've been reading Lovers Lost in Limbo— It's just a title," she added after Ron made a face. "Anyways, it talks about the various ways in which one can communicate with the dead or their lasting imprints.

"According to A. B. Lee, aside from actual ghosts, portraits are the closest one can achieve to speaking with the dead because they are a true imprint of a persons 'echo', so to speak. They remember, they comprehend, and they are true to their memory. It's all very vague but it basically means it would be as though you were talking to Professor Snape as though he were still alive. I'll come by and drop it off tomorrow if you like."

Harry let out a groan. This was not helping.

"Is that what you want?" asked Ginny. "To talk to—"

"I don't know what I want," he said. "That's why I wanted time. And now I have it, so it really doesn't matter." He stood up abruptly, startling Hermione from her spot. "Come on, I'm sick of this room. Let's just go."

Harry pointedly refused to look back at the portrait and swept from the room.

"That painting is still seriously creepy, if you ask me," added Ron, standing by the door.

"Shame you can't sell house elves," answered Ginny with a grin.

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	2. Chapter 2

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"Snape!" Harry cried, looking around the room wildly. For some reason, Harry found himself in the master suite, staring unexpectedly at the mobile and now fully self-aware portrait of Professor Severus Snape. He wasn't aware of how he got there, nor removing the plain white sheet he had hung over the painting when last inspecting it. But there he was, face to canvas face. 

"Potter," the portrait replied.

"You're moving!" he choked out at last. What had just happened?

The portrait raised an eyebrow after briefly sweeping the room with his gaze. "How very observant of you. Should I congratulate you that after over seven years in the wizarding world you've managed to come to the conclusion that portraits, indeed, move?"

Harry could only gape. "But you weren't before," he sputtered while shaking his head. "You weren't, I got a letter and everything."

"What am I doing here, Potter?"

"There was a mistake, Kreature, he…"

The man cut him off impatiently. "How long till I'm removed to Hogwarts?"

"A few months, at most," Harry replied.

"You imbecile," Snape scowled. "Can't even hang a portrait right. How you managed to survive the Dark Lord-" He paused. "You were supposed to die."

At this, Harry's expression brightened. "I know, I mean I did… in a sense. But I came back." He then smiled cheerfully at the portrait.

Snape's expression remained impassive. "Back?"

"Yeah! You see when—"

"Ah yes, the prophesied chosen one," Snape interrupted. "Only fitting that the wizarding world's savoir should return, to give inspiration to the common folk in the face of adversity."

Harry's expression dropped, suddenly remembering just to whom it was he was talking. Snape. The man who had sacrificed his life for the cause, the man whom he, at last meeting had called a cowered and tried to curse. By the glowering look on the portraits face, it didn't seem like his impression of the boy had much improved. Well if this was how things were meant to be, so be it, he thought to himself. Snape was always going to be Snape, and Harry would be damned if he let that stop him from doing what he had to do.

"I came back because of what you gave me," Harry replied with a wry sort of half smile on his face. "You showed me the way to defeat Lord Voldemort. None of this would have happened if it weren't for you."

"Ah yes, be sure to put that on my tombstone, will you? Though I'm sure plans for the construction of my monument are well under way."

"I'm trying to thank you," he continued darkly.

Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied with impatiens. "I mean yes, thank you. And I do mean that. For everything… the memories…"

"I see." Snape squinted and drew a finger across his thin lips. "Taking the higher ground, are we? Feeling pity? Need to prove your benevolence, and _honor_ the infamous Professor Snape with a useless portrait to commiserate his sad existence."

Harry could feel the words practically spat at him. He supposed he should have expected this, but still, he had to make the man see. "No, look, that's not it at all. You deserve a headmaster's portrait."

"You seem to have forgotten the location of Hogwarts as well in your haste to bring me to life. Perhaps _death _has addled your brain a bit more than usual," he hissed.

Harry let out a long breath and looked up at the angry portrait. "And no one deserves to die like that," he continued in a manner he hoped would convey the full of his regret over the past seven years.

If it was possible, Severus's face darkened even more so than before. "The truth at last," he replied in an almost whisper. "_Guilt_, Mr. Potter. You don't even know what you're sorry for do you?"

Harry's brow furled, trying desperately to find the right words to explain.

"Get out," Severus spat.

"But..." Harry took a hesitant step back, confusion clearly evident. His head swam; this was not how it was supposed to go at all. He had to thank him, just had to, for him mom at least. Surely Snape could be made to see that he got it now, he understood why he acted as he did, and he was sorry.

"Get out," Snape shouted, raising his voice angrily. "You as good as killed me, at least let me have my peace when I want it. Leave. Get out now, you foolish child!"

Swallowing hard, Harry turned on his heal. Tomorrow, he'd come back tomorrow, when they were both calmer. He wasn't sure what he would've said, had he stayed, but he doubted it was something he could take back later and many choice words were coming to mind revolving around his mum.

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"Look, I'm telling you Hermione, he was alive!"

"Alive?" Hermione replied flatly, now staring at the inanimate Muggle portrait. Her hands briefly examined the frame, its sides, and surface. It certainly didn't look any different from the day before, though there was a bit of a hand print smudge to the left.

"Moving, whatever," answered Harry. "You know what I mean. The portrait worked."

She then turned to look directly at the agitated boy motioning dramatically to the picture. "He looks exactly the same as he did yesterday."

Harry came to stand beside her and looked straight at the portrait, the very portrait he had seen fully mobile the night before. Nothing made sense, but he knew what he had seen, what he had heard. Last night it was alive and not just alive, it was Snape. He knew it. "I know, but last night--"

"You must have had a dream."

"It wasn't a dream," he replied, this time unable to keep the anger out of his voice. Did she think he was lying? Surely she realized he'd been through enough to know the difference between a dream and reality.

"Harry, even the artists admitted the magic didn't take," she answered in an attempt at a calming voice.

"Well they were wrong."

"I know you're upset about everything but don't you think…"

"I wasn't dreaming, Hermione." He left her side and walked up to the portrait, giving a mock examination. "I know the difference between a dream and reality, ok?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and took on a distinctly skeptical stance. "Fine, you say it wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream. Then what was it?"

"I don't know."

Hermione gave a jerky nod. "Harry, take some dreamless sleep potion and have a decent nights sleep for once."

"It's not a dream," he bit out in a steely voice.

"Just do it for me," she pleaded.

Harry turned and looked at her. The look on her face was enough to make him regret his harsh tone. She was, after all, only trying to help. She just didn't understand.

"Fine," he answered at last. "But only because you asked, not because I think you're right though."

She smiled at once, her face instantly brightening, and gave him a hug. "It'll be alright Harry. The wars over and you've done more than your part. You just need to move on now, we all do."

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_R&R please_


	3. Chapter 3

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"Back again?"

Harry didn't remember entering, he didn't even remember igniting the fire or closing the door. He was just standing there, like the night before, with Professor Snape staring sardonically back at him, clearly unimpressed.

"How is this possible?" Harry asked more to himself than the man before him. He took a long glance around the room, clenching his fist as though testing to see if he could feel.

Everything seemed in perfect place. The bed was made, the curtains drawn, he should be sleeping just over there… but there was nothing. Not a dream, he thought assuredly to himself, it's not a dream.

"It's called magic, Potter. Certainly you've heard of it," Snape answered, his scowl ever gracing those prominent features of his.

Harry found himself ignoring his former professor. He walked up to the portrait and ran his hands over the sides and frame, as though believing they would disappear at his touch. "This doesn't make sense," he muttered.

"Little does to you," Snape sneered, moving away from the area of Harry's examination in disgust.

Harry looked up at the portrait and he shot back a glare of his own, though it lacked any of his potions masters menace. "Shut up," he snapped, backing up so he could get a proper view. The real Professor Snape was one thing, but he was not going to take such crap from a malfunctioning portrait echo, pseudo Snape. "I'm sick of your arrogant… condescending, _bullshit_ all the time."

"So the solution, of course, is to hang a portrait of myself in your home. Been lonely I take it? Hero worship not all you hoped it would be?"

Harry bit back a curse. "I told you already, this was a mistake."

"Of course," Snape replied dryly.

"Why are you only here at night?" he asked suddenly. If this wasn't a dream, which he was sure it wasn't, than there had to be some sort of magic at work.

Severus shrugged. "Because the thought of dealing with you, as well as your revolting little friends, is enough to make one long for a house fire."

Harry stared. He wasn't about to be side stepped, and he was sure that this Snape, whoever he was, and where ever he came from, was not simply some figment of his imagination. "You're lying. Portraits don't act as you do during the day. You've been reverting to a Muggle painting. Can you explain that?"

Professor Snape looked unconcerned and started examining his own surroundings. His background appeared to be some kind of library. _Typical_, Harry could almost hear him muttering as he swept over the background. "What do you want, Mr. Potter?" he finally replied. "Why are you here?"

Harry took a second and actually considered the question. Perhaps this was why he was here. Perhaps he just needed to get the anxiety of meeting Snape off his conscious, and this_ magic_ would go away. "Like I said yesterday. I wanted to apologize for what had happened, and to thank you for everything you've done again, but as you're too stubborn to accept that—."

"Wrong again, Potter."

"Wrong about what?" Harry practically shouted. His frustration and impatience was beginning to build exponentially.

Severus smirked. "Where should I, ah, start? The list _is_ quite long."

He inwardly groaned. "Why am I here, then?"

An eyebrow rose. "I believe that was the question I was just asking. You truly are obtuse, aren't you?"

Harry clenched his fists wondering, not for the first time, why having his portrait done seemed like such a good idea to begin with. "Why do you believe I am not here to apologize?"

This time Snape made a point of surveying the boy closely, and when he spoke, it was with a voice filled with scorn and venom. "Because you don't know what you're apologizing for. You're sorry I'm dead;_ well so am I_, but do you know why you are? You're sorry that you didn't save me, not that I died.

"You are a selfish, self important, arrogant, little brat. You believe that everything is connected to you; that if you had just _tried hard enough,_ you could've done something to prevent myself from dying. Well it doesn't work like that. When will you realize that not everything is within your control?"

Harry was taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere. "I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled, finding it hard to retain eye contact with the lifelike portrait before him.

"No, you just want your precious little conscious cleared before you can go on with your happy little life, as though nothing ever happened, to be normal. Can't do that with the blot of my memory on your mind, can you? You failed. Deal with it." The last words were ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry didn't know what to say. He felt as though he had been winded. These were arguments he'd had in his head a hundred times over, but in the end, he always came to the same conclusion. It wasn't his fault; he knew that, even though he did feel guilty. None of this made any sense.

"Failed? I didn't do anything to you. You just said not everything is within my control."

"Then let me rest in peace," Snape snapped angrily.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said, his voice now filling with contempt of his own.

"And yet you're swallowing every word."

"I am not, and I'm not sorry," he answered bitterly. This was going nowhere. "I owe you nothing."

Snape's smirk was back, except this time it held nothing but malevolence and dislike. "Only my life, or so you think."

"Your life was pathetic," Harry spat back. It was only a portrait after all, and likely not even a real one. But whatever, _this_ was, he'd dealt with Snape enough in his lifetime to not wish to do so anymore.

"Hit a nerve, have I?" Severus watched as the boy turned for the door. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow night then."

The door slammed shut, and the house was once again at peace.

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	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: only 3 more chapters, i hope to get the next really short one up today aswell._

* * *

"Why am I here?" Harry yelled. "Why the fuck, am I back here again?" Another day had passed. Another night had come. "You're making this happen!" And yet he was sure this wasn't a dream, more like a lapse in consciousness. "I know it!" And then he was here.

"I am a portrait, how can I make anything happen?" came Snape's sarcastic reply. He too appeared more disgruntled than usual.

"I don't know, but you're making this happen," Harry stated assuredly. He had to be, after all. Nothing else made sense.

"Ever consider that perhaps, you're the one making this happen?"

"You mean this is a dream?" Harry refused to believe it.

"No." Snape's face was completely devoid of emotion. He just looked at Harry, as though trying to see through him.

"Then what is it!"

There was a long pause before Snape finally breathed out, "I don't know."

Harry made a small growl in frustration and started pacing the room. If this was his own doing, then there must be something he had to say, something to finish this, what ever it was. There was only one thing he could think of. "Look, all I wanted to say--."

"If this is going to be another pathetic attempt at a witless apology, spare me. I'm dead. Get over it," Snape interrupted, with an air of annoyance.

"Kind of hard with you hanging around my dreams like this."

Snape looked as though he wanted to spit. "Oh a pun, how very cleaver of you. And as I've already said, this isn't a dream."

"Then what the hell is it!" Harry yelled, slightly flushed.

"Obviously you're going insane, Potter," he snapped back. "Pity I won't be able to read the headlines when they cart you off to St. Mungo's."

Suddenly, Harry found himself mentally cursing Kreature, not for permanently attaching the professor to his walls, but for denying him the enjoyment of personally tearing the thing to shreds. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"And your talking to a Muggle painting. Somehow I think I win this competition."

The two of them glared at each other. Harry then spun, and collapsed back onto the master bed. He stared up at the ceiling in silence for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Hundreds of thoughts seemed to drift in and out of his mind. Everything from what Hermione would say if she knew about these visions, to Ginny's face if they did decide to cart him off. He wondered if he was sleeping at all at night. His days did seem exhausted, but this couldn't be a dream…

All of a sudden, Harry sat up. Professor Snape stood as before, looking unperturbed. "Tell me about my mother."

"What?" came Snape's sharp reply.

For once it seemed as though Harry had caught the man off guard. He smiled inwardly to savor this small victory. "Tell me about my mum. If this is a dream, then you shouldn't be able to impart any new information to me."

"Or your subconscious could just make up what you want to hear," he bit out.

Harry shrugged. "Then tell me something I don't want to hear."

"I slept with your mother."

The boy visibly blanched as the edges of Snape's mouth quirked up. A wave of dizziness swept over Harry. Fear twisted sharply pushing all other thoughts away. "What! No, you couldn't, you, you're lying."

"And how would you know?" Snape replied in a far too satisfactory tone, his eyes glittering all the while. "If I am lying, then this cleaver little exercise is pointless, if I'm not… do you really want to continue this conversation?"

He has to be lying, Harry thought to himself. He's far too amused to be otherwise. "I hate you"

"The feeling's entirely mutual, I assure you."

Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, Snape no longer looked amused. "Why?" Harry finally asked, just wanting this to end. He was so tired. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Don't tell me I've hurt your feelings?"

"You hated me the moment you set eyes on me, just because I looked like my dad!" Harry snapped. "But I'm not him, I'm not like him, I've never been anything like him."

"Haven't you?"

Harry didn't know why he was getting so angry all of a sudden, it's not like Snape's attitude was anything new to him, but for some reason, now, after it all, he wanted him to know, to actually see him instead of James. Harry. He needed him to see Harry, Lily's son, not the boy who lived, not James. Everyone was dead now anyways. It just felt important to do so.

Harry took a deep breath and stood, looking Snape directly in the eyes. "No, I haven't and quit pretending like you don't know it either. You've spent the last seven years of your life hating me because you wanted to, because it would be easier for you that way. Because you can't deal with the fact that you owe me."

The man's face darkened and when he spoke it was barely over a whisper. "Don't flatter yourself, just because I don't believe you're some great savior."

"You killed my mum!" he exclaimed in disgust. "The woman you supposedly loved, and when you were given a second chance, you spent that time being vindictive, petty, and cruel. This was your way of showing her memory love and respect? I'm sure she would be very proud of how you've turned your life around."

"Stop being melodramatic." If possible, Snape's voice grew lower. "How is it you view me, Potter? Do you envision that I shut myself away from life, brooding on past regrets and mistakes? The tortured soul, longing for redemption in the eyes of Lily Potter's son?" The man sneered as Harry shifted on his spot. "Shocking though it may be for your small mind to comprehend, but I _like_ who I am. My job has never been to coddle or hold hand for a bunch of undisciplined brats. I _teach_."

For some reason, the anger that previously seemed ready to explode from him, drifted away. All he felt was sad and he didn't know why. "Perhaps," Harry replied quietly. "But with me you made it personal."

"And yet it's you who keeps returning, begging me for forgiveness," Snape continued on. "Is that why you're here? Do you expect me to apologize in turn? You _are_ pathetic if you think anything has changed between us."

Harry looked back at him now. A strange feeling curled in his gut but he let nothing show on his face. He just stared at the man for a long time.

"No," he finally answered. "I'm just sorry."

An odd expression crossed Snape's face before the scene faded from view.

* * *

_A/N: thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews, i come from a smaller fandom so i'm not used to so many its great. as to the question about a beta... i know, i suck at grammer... but because this really is not that long of a story and it'll be up within the week i'm not too worried. for anything more ambitious i'll consider it._


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Harry broke off the kiss. His face was flushed, and he found that the temperature had risen significantly in the last ten minutes. Despite his effort to straighten himself, Ginny pushed forward on the couch, straddling across his lap as she bent her head down for another.

"Ginny, maybe you should leave," Harry said abruptly, turning his head to the side.

Her brow furled in confusion as she leaned slightly back. "What? Why? You don't want to?"

Oh god, he thought to himself. She was so beautiful when she looked at him like that.

"It's not that, I've just been having some really crazy dreams lately," he said while resting his hands on her hips. He was finding it oddly hard to concentrate though the pads of his thumbs seemed to work on their own, making slow circular motions on her soft skin.

"Oh, that." Ginny smiled in understanding and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Hermione told me. She said you thought the portrait was real."

He huffed in annoyance. Saying it like that did make him sound crazy. "Not real, just that it worked… doesn't matter, she was right. It was just a dream. They're just very real dreams…"

"You're sure it's a dream? I know Hermione can be--"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Last night I woke up in the middle of it. Definitely a dream. I just don't want to, I don't know, I may flail, or talk in my sleep, or something." He was staring at a spot just over her right shoulder. He had to, lest he lose his resolve, especially with her fidgeting as she was.

"Come on Harry. You really think a little thing like that is going to keep me away?" She gave an all too unsettling Snape-ish smirk, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Besides, my mom may be a little naive when it comes to me, but she's not dumb. She'll catch on if I keep staying over at Luna's."

Harry blinked as a roguish smile came across his face. That really was all it took.

"All right," he breathed, his grip tightening possessively.

"But we should move to the master bedroom."

He froze and stared at her. "What? No! Are you crazy?"

There was a knowing glint in her eye. "It's only a portrait after all. Come on, it'll be fun."

"Voyeurism is fun?" he choked out.

"Huh? No. I'm simply not scared of some Muggle painting." She shook her head playfully, letting her red hair fall over her face, before regaining that unsettling expression.

Harry was about to speak when she shifted her body forward, fully entrapping him against the couch and reclaiming his lips.

"Ginny," he moan lightly, knowing full well he was lost.

* * *

_Please R&R_

_--- -_


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

"My pet was a toad whilst at Hogwarts," a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Huh?" Harry's focus slowly cleared. He blinked a few times before realizing where he was. As though there could be any mistake, Harry thought ruefully to himself.

"You wanted me to impart new information. Now you have it. It can be confirmed by most of the Hogwarts senior staff, if you feel the need."

Rubbing his head, Harry tried to think back to the last thing he was doing. "I wanted you to tell me something about my mother," the boy muttered, not really paying attention.

Severus's hand twitched. "Well I don't want to talk about your mother. Besides you wouldn't be able to confirm any of it," he replied levelly.

Harry shrugged. "Don't care. I want to know about my mum."

The man stared back coldly, before his gaze was drawn away to the other side of the room. "Redheads," he said, raising a single eyebrow. "Does _her_ mother know she's here?"

Harry spun so fast that he nearly tripped over himself. There she was, lying peacefully beneath the sheets, while her red hair pooled vividly around her head. His heart raced and he felt as though his eyes would leave their sockets in shock.

"Shit! You can see her?" he turned back to Snape, glaring viciously. "What is this place? What is going on?"

"As I've told you already, Mr. Potter," Snape sharply replied, "I don't know." He paused. "What I do know however, is that I not only find the idea of you and your _girlfriend_ having sex utterly revolting, but the fact that it was done in front of me, makes me seriously concerned for your mental state."

Harry looked away, feeling nauseous. "Oh god, you saw."

Professor Snape gave a derisive snort. "No. Fortunately I only enjoy these nighttime sojourns once you've fallen asleep. Why is she here? Needed her protection from bad dreams?"

Harry shook his head at a loss. "What is this place?" he muttered in a sullen voice.

"Judging by the company, I suspect I've been condemned to some sort of hell."

Harry's lip curled. "I'd be inclined to agree, except then, why am I stuck here too?"

"Devine justice," he flatly replied.

"Ha-ha." Harry sat himself on the corner of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping girl. He took off his glasses and began to rub his eyes. He was just so tired all the time now. The bed was warm, if he could just go back to sleep.

"Look at me."

Harry's head shot up and he looked directly at the portrait before him in question.

"Can you see clearly?" Snape asked.

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I can."

"Do you normally have clear vision without glasses in your dreams?"

"I thought you said this wasn't a dream," Harry replied.

"It's not. I'm simply trying to discern what form of reality this is."

"Oh, well, then no, I don't think so."

Severus surveyed the boy closely, his expression unreadable. "Leave them off," he snapped as Harry tried to replace them. "Try to wake her up."

Harry wasn't sure what he meant. "Ginny?" he asked.

Snape looked at him as though he were an idiot. Of course he meant Ginny, he thought bitterly.

"Fine, fine," he said moving over to her.

At first he tried calling her name. Then he shook her. He could hear Snape making an impatient sound. He shook her roughly, in a way that would wake anybody up, but still she slept on unperturbed.

"Mark her," came Snape's annoyed voice.

"What?"

"_Mark her_. See if it's there when you wake up."

"But it's not a dream."

Snape looked at him hard, clipping out, "Are you being deliberately obtuse or are you truly this dense?"

Harry flushed. "At lease I'm not stuck in a bloody portrait! Is this what they're all like? The other headmasters might thank me for never getting this thing to work properly."

Something glinted in Snape's eye. "Are you saying that you had my portrait commissioned, but it did not work? Have you looked into the causes?"

Harry sat back down on the corner of the bed and shrugged. "No, they said it wasn't anything important. That it's not unheard of." He looked up at the man, feeling slightly unsettled.

"No, it's not," he replied briskly.

"What could it, this mean?" Harry asked.

"This?" Snape gestured to the surrounding room. "I don't know." A pause. "What is the situation in the wizarding world?"

Harry shrugged again, a gesture Snape was clearly finding tedious. "Voldemort's dead, people are happy."

Snape looked at him with an expression he normally reserved for the likes of Neville, the kind that said clearly _you are a complete idiot_ and made you feel like it, too.

"Look," continued Harry. "If you expected a better answer, then perhaps you should try being more specific, rather than just assuming everyone's an idiot for not being able to read minds."

"What I expect, Mr. Potter, is for people to think logically, and anyone who can't, _is_ an idiot. Aside from the obvious answer, which you already informed me of upon our first meeting, what is the situation, and by situation I mean, who's the present minister for magic, how are the post war trials being handled, were there any significant casualties, which death eaters are still at large, to what extent has my role been made public, who is the present Headmaster of Hogwarts, has all fighting ceased, is that specific enough for you?"

"Doesn't matter though, you being stuck in a portrait and all," Harry answered, once again rubbing his eyes. It felt weird not wearing his glasses yet seeing fine.

"Perhaps not."

There it was again, that feeling that the man before him definitely knew something he did not, something more about this situation that he was keeping it to himself.

"You know something I don't," Harry stated at once.

"Many things actually."

Harry gave a frustrated groan. He really did need to learn to better watch what he said around him. "I suppose I set that one up."

"You do take the challenge out of it," Snape replied, his demeanor far too light for Harry's comfort.

The boy looked back at Ginny, wondering when he would wake, if in a few minutes he would find himself next to her, just lightly brushing her skin, and surrounded by her scent.

"So when does this thing end?" he asked, looking back at Snape. "This always ends with us wanting to kill each other. We're probably not bickering enough for me to wake up."

"So eager to send me back to purgatory?" Snape waspishly replied, his demeanor darkening at once.

"I'm just saying we've been at it for longer than usual. Maybe it doesn't work when we're actually, I don't know, getting along… well, getting along for us, anyways." Harry looked up and shrugged. It was true; there was something different this time, Snape obviously felt so too by the way he'd been acting, even if he wasn't willing to admit it.

"There is nothing controlling this, Potter, but you and I. If our session hasn't ended yet, it is because either you, or I, or the both of us, have not yet honestly wished it to." The intensity of Snape's gaze when he said this caused Harry to look away.

"Reassuring," Harry choked out, looking anywhere but at the portrait. He searched the room for a distraction. Finally, his eyes rested upon his wand, sitting idly on the bedside table. He stared at it for a long time, while memories of the past twelve months seemed to drift in and out of the forefront of his mind.

"He left an awful lot to chance, didn't he? I should have failed a hundred times over if not for luck," he finally said.

"Obviously he knew what he was doing," Severus replied quietly, his eyes closely watching the boy.

"Yeah I suppose so. Did he-- what?" Harry cut his question short when he saw the professor shaking his head and suppressing a smile.

"Just making an observation."

"And that would be?" asked Harry, defensively.

"None of your business," the man smirked.

"Look," Harry shouted. "I was _trying_ to get along for once, but if you would prefer to be an asshole, then by all means! It's not like anyone would miss your portrait anyways. Maybe I'm just supposed to destroy the bloody thing to get this to end."

The boy snatched his glasses from the bed and roughly put them back in place, while heading for the door.

"Pity," Severus replied coldly, to the boy's turned back. "And just when I was starting to think that maybe you were Lily's son after all."

Harry turned round. "Wha?"

The room was gone.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open. A moment later he was out of the bed and struggling with his cloths.

Ginny groaned. "Harry, what are you?"

"Hermione's book, is it still here?" he asked while attempting push a comb through his hair. Would it ever be any use, he thought ruefully as he looked into the mirror.

"Huh?"

"That book she had…" he glanced at the immobile portrait across the room. "Lost lovers or something."

"You think we're lost?" Ginny asked, propping herself up on an elbow.

Harry stared at her in confusion. "What?" _Oh. _He shook his head. "No, I need to look up portraits."

"Harry, it's too early for this," she said, flopping back down into the sheets. "Come back to bed. Harry?"

But Harry was paying no attention. He had found the book that Hermione had brought and was growing ever the more agitated and pale with each passing word. Furiously he flipped the pages back again, read and reread the passage before him.

"Harry what is it," Ginny asked, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself and moving to his side.

Barely looking at her, Harry shoved the open book into her hands. "Read," he stated.

Glancing once at him awkwardly, Ginny began to read the words allowed. "Occasionally the commission of canvas-to-life portraits can be used when trying to identify whether a lost loved one has unfortunately crossed over, or is simply missing and cannot be found. The technique used only truly works once a person's soul has left the body, and thusly an imprint can be captured." Ginny looked up at Harry's excited face, he was grinning now. "You think Professor Snape is alive?"

"There was no portrait in the headmaster's office. We all thought that was because Snape left the school before the battle. There was no body because we all assumed the Death Eaters got to it first. We all just assumed! I assumed he was dead when we left, I never actually checked. Ginny, Severus Snape is alive." As he said this, he looked at her with a strange fever then kept glancing back to the portrait. She felt she should look away. He took her hand in a painfully tight grip. "Ginny, you know I have to do this."

"I know," she whispered back, still not looking at him, instead her eyes were locked with that portrait's. Professor Snape's visage stared back at the couple impassively. It was still the same, as it had always been.

* * *

Harry closed the door as quietly as he could before looking around the ill lit room. It was pitifully generic- bed, chair, desk, window… all of it screamed Muggle at him. The only thing out of place in this pristinely clean and meticulously set room, was a small note lying on the table just beside the mans head. Harry merely glanced at it; it wasn't his place to snoop, not this time. 

Though he hated the phrase, Harry had to admit the man did look, for once in his life, peaceful. Younger even, he thought, now that the harsh line of his expression had slipped away, though still very pale and gaunt. But there was nothing to be done for that, he supposed.

Well this is it, he thought while taking a deep breath. Withdrawing his wand, Harry began to set up wards around the small, private, hospital room. Once done, he retrieved the vial from his pocket he had procured from St. Mungos. He did not want to touch the man, but there really was no choice. He quickly did away with all the medical equipment attached to his body and uncorked the bottle.

"Well Professor Snape," he said, looking down at the man. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry, not again. We both chose our lives after all, but I don't think you would've chosen this."

Carefully, Harry opened the man's mouth and poured the contents of the vial down as carefully as he could. He watched critically for a few minutes before backing up once he was satisfied all the liquid had been swallowed.

"Here goes," he muttered, raising his wand. "Enervate!"

The first thing Professor Snape was aware of was the pounding ache throbbing within his head. Slowly he squinted open his eyes. The lights were far too bright and his throat far too dry. He took a large gasping breath, practically choking on the air as he did.

"Pro- Professor Snape?" he heard _him_ call. Snape opened his eyes fully, this time paying attention to his surroundings.

"You've moved me," he said in a disused, quiet voice. The weakness of it shocked him, and again he wondered at the pain in his head. "Where am I?"

"Your in a hospital, Professor." The boy was standing against the far wall, his eyes wide behind those ridiculous glasses of his. "A Muggle hospital."

At that, Snape jerked up, attempting to move into a sitting position, but then a wild whip of pain tore through him, knocking him back down. "How is this possible?"

"Magic Professor, surely you've heard of it," Harry answered wryly, cautiously taking a step forward.

If it was possible, a small smile cracked upon lips. Well to most it would appear as a self-satisfied smirk, but Harry knew it was a smile. "I'm still not sure who brought you here though, there's a note on that table. I didn't read it."

"How thoughtful. I suppose I should thank you for undergoing the monumental task of actually respecting ones privacy."

Harry made no reply.

Severus glanced over, looking shortly at the spiraling handwriting spelling out Severus on its cover. "Narcissa," he muttered under his breath. "How long?"

"About three months, sir," replied Harry. Severus's eyebrow rose but he said nothing. Harry fidgeted slightly on his spot, clearly unsure as to how he should proceed.

"Should I assume it is still dangerous for my status and whereabouts to be made public?" Snape asked after a long silence. The pain in his head was beginning to subside at least.

"Yes. Look I've worked everything out, I've got a place for you to stay and everything, at least till you're well enough to take care of yourself." Severus frowned though the boy seemed relieved to have something to speak about. "I mean defend yourself and stuff, I'm sure you're fine for the most part. The potion I gave you should fix most of the damage, but I don't think you should be taking on a bunch of escaped Death Eaters or anything at the moment."

He continued to scowl, trying once more to sit up. This time he was successful, but the pain of it clearly told him the limit to his abilities at the moment. "Very well," he answered finally, giving only the faintest of sneers. "So what's the next part of this oh so brilliant plan of yours. I don't suppose you thought to tell anyone competent about your new grand rescue mission?"

"Er… no, not really. I thought it best to let you decide who knows what." At that, Harry took a small brown teddy bear out of his coat pocket, with the words 'get well soon' written across its bright green t-shirt. "Port key," he said quickly, seeing the look of horror fall across Snape's face. "I was in a hurry, it was the first thing I could find that didn't look suspicious."

Snape continued to look dubious but said nothing.

"We've got about five minutes before it goes off," Harry said as he walked over and sat it on the bedside table.

"I'm glad you thought to leave a good amount of cushion space for your margin of error. I'm sure it never crossed your mind that you could be held back with that _thing_ already touching you." Harry flushed as Snape spoke. "And where is it you're taking me? Surely not Grimmauld Place."

Harry looked away. "It's as good as any, I figure. Well protected too." Snape twitched. "Well the thing's about ready, but I wanted to ask you, uh, something first."

Snape was looking at him impatiently, clearly resenting the fact that his hand was now resting upon the surprisingly soft 'get well' bear. "Well?" he asked shortly.

Harry took hold of the bear but his eyes were staring pointedly at the blank wall to his side. "You didn't, uh… you were lying, right? When, you know…"

Snape's eyes glittered as comprehension dawned on him. This time he really was trying to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

"Just tell me you didn't sleep with my mum, alright?" Harry exploded, still not looking at him.

It was at that exact moment that the port key chose to burst into life. He felt the familiar pull from within his belly and the world blurred around him. And though Harry wasn't sure, he was left with the most worrisome feeling that he had just witnessed Severus Snape laugh.

_End._

* * *

_A/N: ok, so that's my first HP fic ever. i admit to being a snarry shipper so i kinda wanted to leave that option open at the end. also i know Snape seems a bit more cheerful in the last two chapters, i wanted to show him as happy to discover he's alive but i'm worried it just came off as ooc._

_anyways, thanks again for all the reviews and sorry that this took a bit longer to post than i initially intended. i'd love to hear what you all thought now that i'm done. thanks again._


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